It's called a heart
by Mistofstars
Summary: Set in 5x03 – Dean and Castiel drive through the night to get to Maine in order to interview the police officer who had laid eyes on Raphael. Too bad Dean is tired after a while – it's frigging cold and raining and he decides it's time for a long overdue break. DESTIEL


**Author: **Mistofstars

**Gift for:** chef_geekier (within the context of the SPN J2 Xmas Exchange on LJ)

**Author's note: **I tried to comply with some of the optional prompts I received for this challenge, and one attracted me strongly - "caught in the rain," as well as "A nurses B back to health," so I hope I made some use of these prompts and included them somewhat! The title for this ficlet derives from the same-named song from Depeche Mode, I thought it was cute.

**Plot:** Set in 5x03 (wasn't allowed to write past season 6 hehe) – Dean and Castiel drive through the night to get to Maine in order to interview the police officer who had laid eyes on Raphael. Too bad Dean is tired after a while – it's frigging cold and raining and he decides it's time for a long overdue break.

**Beta-reader: **Faith Valconbridge (thanks sweetie!)

**Rating:**T or PG-13

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester / Castiel (Destiel)

**Warnings: **Fluffy, comfort, romance, ficlet

**Word count: **circa2400

**Feedback? **Highly appreciated

**~**It's called a heart**~**

Thick raindrops were falling loudly and incessantly from the pitch black night's sky. Huge puddles of cold, dirty water shimmered in the white, electric light of nearby street lamps, their surfaces quavered oddly whenever a raindrop fell into them. A few people were rushing from one dry place to the other, purses and newspapers held over their heads. Their disgusted and annoyed grimaces where quite something to look at. It was a laughably unpleasant weather for anyone daring to set foot outside, at least that was what Castiel was assuming. It was in the middle of the night and Castiel wondered why there were still so many humans on the way, possibly they were working night shifts...

With a tiny smile Castiel observed Dean's grimace and hunched shoulders as he made his way through the downpour as well, holding two paper cups in his hands. He was slowly approaching the parked Impala, unperturbed by the constant downfall, as he balanced the drinks carefully, though Castiel could see from a distance that the paper cups had plastic lids. There was no need for this heedfulness – Castiel supposed it was Dean's nature to double-check things no matter what, so he decided not to comment on it as soon as Dean would make it to the Impala.

By the time Dean slid clumsily inside the car beside him and shut the driver's door, he was soaked through, wet to the skin. His hair was darker, small rivulets of water were running down his temples; countless beads were glistening in his lashes like little diamonds. His eyes contained a vivid exhilaration as he looked at Castiel and handed him one cup wordlessly. Castiel refused to accept it for a moment and frowned confused at Dean. The sound of the noisy rain on the car roof was deafening, it made them feel like it isolated them from the world outside. As if the rain formed an impenetrable cloak for everyone who didn't sit in the Impala. It felt almost... safe.

"Dean, you know I don't require food nor drink. I'm able to sustain this vessel on my own," Castiel explained calmly, with his usual gravelly voice. Dean rolled his eyes and huffed a brief laugh, taking Castiel's hand determinately with his wet one, making him hold the cup with a cheeky smile nevertheless.

"I know, man. But it's frigging cold, it's pouring like it's the end of the world, and I brought you hot chocolate with _multicolored_ marshmallows. You've got to try it, it's the best for such weather... if you want to understand anything about humans, this is a necessary lesson," Dean insisted, turning to his own cup as he undid the lid and put it away.

Castiel copied him after he had watched him attentively. He saw a creamy, brown brewage in his cup, on top of it a pink, yellow and greenish foam. Something bloomed inside the angel when he beheld the young man to his side, a prickling, tender notion; he found Dean's behaviour endearing, his gesture affectionate. Sometimes he didn't know whether Dean was inclined to forget Castiel wasn't a human being, or if it was Castiel's desire to be something lesser than an angel. The more Dean showed him everyday objects and manners, the easier it felt to walk among mankind without attracting attention. He _enjoyed _being around Dean. Every now and then, it made even Castiel forget who he was – then there was only a desperate urge thriving within him, the urge to stay at Dean's side as a simple comrade, a friend, his companion.

"Shouldn't we track down Raphael, instead of sitting here with peculiar human beverages?" Castiel asked suspiciously. It solely gained him Dean's brooding regard. Dean sipped his hot chocolate smugly, his eyes never leaving the awkward angel, who had a hard time understanding Dean's intentions once more.

"Cas, I'm knackered. I drove like ten hours straight, I need a break."

"As I said before, I could always transport us there-" Castiel tried to reason with Dean, but Dean raised his hand and interrupted him.

"No, no and three times no. No zapping, capiche? Just... drink your cocoa. I need to chill out for a while."

Castiel nodded slowly, comprehending Dean's request. He tasted his first cup of cocoa carefully, irritated by the sweetness and the strange structure of melted marshmallow on this borrowed human tongue. He felt Dean's curious eyes resting on him all the while, a loveable smirk gracing the man's plump, red lips. "And?" he asked excitedly, making Castiel smile gently at him.

"It's delicious. Thank you, Dean."

The smile he received from the hunter stirred something inside the angel, warmed him thoroughly. It reminded him of flying through the air, of traveling between eons, of seeing the sun's light fall on meadows and forests. A few moments passed in which they drank their hot chocolates in comfortable silence. Only the sounds of the screaming wind and the never-ending rain around the car's frame came to their ears. Sometimes their eyes fled to each other, examining the other being at their side closely, eagerly interested. Dean felt content, peaceful for the given rest. It was cozy to sit like this, caught in the rain in the early night at a parking bay of a nameless town – the world and its problems could wait for the nonce.

"You're soaked with rain, Dean," Castiel noted at some point. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Dean's dripping jeans; the dark texture was clinging to Dean's firm, muscled upper thighs, underlining his physique in a flattering way. Castiel felt _very_ human and nervous when he allowed himself to glimpse at Dean's wet shirt, sticking to his torso, so that Castiel could discern every delve of his ribs, every mound of his bones and muscles.

"No shit, Sherlock," Dean replied with a grin, slurping his drink loudly. Castiel didn't think twice, he did the only thing reasonable to him – he reached out his hand and placed it carefully on Dean's shoulder, startling him unintentionally. Dean was choking on his drink, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, about to chide Castiel for making him jump. But then he looked down at himself, recognizing his body and clothes were as dry as a bone. Hell, even his hair and shoes and socks were pleasantly dry.

"What the fuck was that?" he couldn't hold back nevertheless, making Castiel's eyes go wide in confusion.

"You were drenched. I thought humans could become ill when it's cold and when they are wearing wet clothes. My apologies, I didn't want to catch you off guard," Castiel explained, completely flustered. Dean scoffed and laughed, then he pushed Castiel's shoulder amicably and grinned at him broadly.

"Nah, Cas, it's okay. Thank you. Just, give a man a warning the next time, alright?"

Again Castiel nodded, a subtle smile coming to life on his lips as he watched Dean fiddle with the car radio. He inserted a square piece of plastic Castiel thought was named "cassette" and soon quiet, classic rock music spread in the small confines of the vehicle. It had a calming effect on them both, the sounds of the weather's tumult were far away. For the moment the atmosphere seemed even peaceful, and Castiel wished he was nothing more than a human too and that he and Dean had nothing to worry about. He regarded Dean with a pensive gaze, studying his delicate features as Dean stared absentmindedly at the radio, biting down on his bottom lip. How would their relationship look like when they were just two simple men? The heart of Castiel's vessel fluttered excitedly at the mere prospect, a yearning he didn't understand overwhelmed him. Maybe this reaction had something to do with the way Dean twisted his lip between his teeth, how troublesome and sad he looked.

Unintentionally Castiel read Dean's mind, trying to figure out what was bothering him. He saw images of Sam, how he and Dean had said goodbye to each other on a rest area, neither of them happy about the situation. Castiel was no specialist when it came to human emotions, but he could tell the song currently playing wasn't merrily and though Dean tried to act as if nothing was wrong, Castiel felt the gloomy vibe he emanated subconsciously. Tenderness clutched his chest and his hands twitched, for they wanted to reach out and do_ something _to ease Dean's pain. Castiel cared about him, more than he should, and more than he was allowed to, but it was true: When Dean was aching, Castiel was aching too.

"You're thinking about Sam?" Castiel asked hesitantly, though they both knew it was rather a statement than a question. Dean gave him the evil eye for a second, presumably he wanted to scold Castiel for divining his thoughts without permission – but then a sad smile graced his mouth and the expression of his eyes became melancholic. He nodded and frowned, looking nothing but pained and haggard. Castiel felt sorry for him.

"Yeah... I wonder how he's doing."

"Do you want me to check on him?" Castiel offered, not knowing what else to do. Dean shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes. He played with a dried up stain of something on his jeans, scraping the nail of his forefinger over it restlessly.

"No, it's alright. Just... stay here, Cas."

"Of course."

The awkward silence lingered only for a few seconds, then Dean seemed focused and attentive again. He watched Castiel still holding the empty paper cup in his hand; he pointed at it and said "Gimme that," then he pushed them together and placed the junk on the dashboard. Dean observed Castiel with a scrutinizing look as if he was estimating something secretly.

"I think I'll have a lie-down in the back-seat..." he said, turning off the radio and the heater.

"You can go wherever you want and I'll call on you tomorrow morning, okay?"

With that being uttered Dean exited the car and climbed into the back-seat, sprawling out with a sigh. A strange fever pitch smote Castiel when he contemplated Dean lying there, looking tired and somehow lost. Every instinct told him not to leave him, he didn't want to. Before he knew what he was actually doing Castiel transported himself to the back-seat as well, right underneath Dean's head and torso, his one leg placed in the footwell, the other leg hoisted next to Dean's hip. Instantly he felt Dean tense up in his arms, becoming stiff. Castiel heard his heartbeat quicken, how his breaths became erratic and chopped. Carefully Castiel wrapped an arm around Dean's belly, marveling at the sensation of his body pressed against Castiel's. What a precious occurrence to hold a human life in his hands...

"Cas, what the fuck are you doing?" Dean squeezed out strainedly, his voice rather shaky and low. The angel couldn't deny that it created a churning heat in this form, that pins and needles coursed through his system. Dean was cold to the touch and Castiel placed his other palm on his forehead gingerly.

"You're cold," he declared taken aback, using some of his grace to let heat travel between their bodies, it entered Dean's system through his forehead like a dim ray of light. Bit by bit Dean relaxed against him, the tension was leaving his body gradually. A choked-up sigh resounded as it left Dean's mouth, it made Castiel's lower stomach convulse and tingle suspiciously. Was that what it was like to be aroused, to desire? He recognized a terrible need to squeeze Dean and to caress his lean figure, to provide him with anything his mortal shell might require. Dean tilted his head and leaned back against Castiel, hiding his face in the crook of Castiel's neck. There were warm, moist puffs of breaths fanning against his throat and when he concentrated enough, the angel could sense the texture of Dean's tempting lips pressing against his skin idly, it was nearly a gentle kiss. Dean became lax in the embrace, slackening more and more as time passed on.

Castiel's hands roamed cautiously over Dean's torso and head, donating soothing warmth like some kind of duvet. He wanted to make sure Dean slept and got the rest he deserved, also he wished to protect him throughout the nocturnal hours. Castiel winced slightly the moment Dean raised his head sleepily and regarded him with a fond smile, catching him off guard. His lids were half-closed, the look of his irises heavy with meaning as the moonlight refracted in the deep green beautifully.

"If you tell Sam about this I'll kill you with my own two hands..." Dean whispered, a cheeky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Castiel understood the concept of time perfectly, but it was utterly human to him as he thought, against all reason, that everything took place in slow motion, his perception was solely tuned to Dean. Everything was Dean, Dean, Dean. How he breathed in shivering intervals, how hotly his exhales ghosted over Castiel's slightly agape lips, generating a heated frenzy within Castiel's stomach. How Dean closed his eyes ultimately and pressed his mouth against Castiel's, making him twitch excitedly. By instinct he responded to the hesitant kiss, opening his lips for Dean slowly.

All of a sudden Castiel comprehended the human characteristic of falling in love, and why those four letters carried this weight. The lyrics of songs made sense, the countless movies he had heard of, the exchange of looks between lovers he had beheld throughout the millennia... God's plan was laid out right in front of him, and Dean was a gift, nothing but a gift he felt incredibly grateful for. What a strange thing for an angel, to fall head over heels in love...

It was a lot to take in – figuring out how to breathe and to add pressure to those demanding lips, but the slide of their kiss-wet mouths was perfect, most satisfying. Especially the way Dean melted against him, so trustfully and approachable... Dean was the first to pull back smoothly, a strange ember of endearment lingered in his eyes as he considered Castiel, wearing a moved smile.

Overwhelmed Castiel bent his head and let his forehead rest against Dean's temple, breathing out lengthily.

"You taste of marshmallows and hot chocolate," he commented quietly, pointlessly, snuggling up to Dean when the other laughed heartily.

**THE END**

So... uh... heh... what do you think? =)


End file.
